


All My Dreams at Once

by katwalking



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7380010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katwalking/pseuds/katwalking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not often a trade works out this well. Phil wouldn't have imagined this outcome in a million years and that's just winning the Cup. There's also Carl Hagelin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All My Dreams at Once

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: Carl Hagelin/Phil Kessel, literally anything.

Horny is ragging cheerfully on the scattered patches of hair decorating Sid’s face, when Carl leans in close to Phil and says, “Your beard looks nice.” Phil blinks at him startled and Carl’s lashes lower briefly, shielding his gaze, before he reaches out to run careful fingers along Phil’s jawline. “One of the better beards, really,” Carl says like he didn’t just touch the corner of Phil’s mouth in the middle of the locker room.

Bonino coughs, pointed and embarrassing, and Phil says, “Thanks,” too flustered to deflect. Carl smiles at him and gets up to take the ice for practice. Phil watches him go until Bonino pokes him in the side.

“The fuck?” Bonino says. Eyebrows high on his forehead and mouth stretched wide in a grin. “Something you want to share with the rest of the line, Kessel?”

“No,” Phil says. He glances quickly around the room, but the situation seems to be contained, no one else is staring at him. Just Bonino, giving him gleeful speculative glances.

“If I wasn’t happily married,” Bonino says, “I would be insulted by this turn of events.” He strokes his thick beard. “Only a blind man would prefer your beard to mine.”

Phil huffs, amused. “He said, ‘one of the best.’” 

Bonino laughs and slaps Phil’s leg with his stick. “Come on, killer.” The locker room is thinning out around them. Phil gives his laces on more tug and stands up to follow Bonino out onto the ice.

**

Phil isn’t naïve. He knows what it means when someone stands inside your personal space, puts their hands lightly on your shoulders, plays with your hair.

It’s just. Just. Carl has a reputation. Carl is a fast skater with a pretty face and a no nonsense attitude.

Phil is a media punching bag, never quite doing enough to earn his keep. Okay, Phil is also a fast skater with an amazing shot, but still. 

Still, nothing. Phil shakes his head. He doesn’t have time for this right now. All his focus, all his energy needs to be on the next game, the next goal, until there are no games left and hopefully he’s lifting the Stanley Cup.

He doesn’t have time to ponder the way Carl’s gaze seems to linger on Phil at the oddest times.

**

The floor is sticky beneath Phil’s feet, the air sweet with victory and champagne. Alcohol burns in the cut on Phil’s bottom lip, but he can’t stop grinning. Horny stops shaking Rust and jumps on Phil’s back, yelling in his ear incoherently. Phil is pretty sure Horny isn’t speaking English at this point.

Sid beams at Phil when Horny bounces off to his next and says, “We made it, you made it,” voice hoarse from screaming. 

Tears spring unbidden to Phil’s eyes and he can only nod in response. Sid punches him on the shoulder and goes to destroy someone else’s life with his words. 

It’s impossible to remember all the words said, all the hugs given and received, but Phil tries. Greedily soaking up the moment, but nothing in life is guaranteed and this may be the only time he gets to experience this particular victory. 

Somehow, Phil finds himself backed into a corner with Carl’s broad hand planted in the middle of his chest. The celebrations continue all around them, but the air feels still, a moment of silence between the two of them. 

“I waited,” Carl says and Phil swallows. Carl runs his hand down Phil’s chest to hook his fingers into the waistband of Phil’s shorts. He tugs, pulling the cloth out and away from Phil’s body. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Phil swallows again. “I-yeah, okay.”

Carl smiles. “Don’t leave without me.” He lets go of Phil and joins the thinning crowd. Attention has turned from congratulations to getting clean and getting on the plane home.

**

The team is greeted in the street by what appears to be thousands of fans, waving towels and signs. Some crying, others laughing hysterically. Sheary breathes, “Fuck,” and Rust points out a sign proposing marriage and another one offering something a bit more carnal.

Phil blushes, remembering the brief touch of Carl’s hand. His promise not to leave alone. 

The majority of the team takes to the bars to celebrate and Phil and Carl go too, but when Geno and Bones begin to make noises about wanting to see their babies, Phil meets Carl’s gaze over the table top. Carl nods and soon they’re bundled into Carl’s car heading to his house.

“We’ll pick up your car tomorrow,” Carl says. Unconcerned about guaranteeing Phil will be at his house in the morning.

“Yeah,” Phil says and rests his head back against the seat. The night, long ago spilled over into a new day, still seems so unreal. Like one of the mad fantasies he cooked up when he first entered the league. Phil had imagined winning the cup in black and gold a million times, but for the Bruins not the Pens. Funny how life works out. And even now, going home with Carl Hagelin seems like the most farfetched part of the experience.

“We’re here,” Carl says, and Phil blinks his eyes open. Carl raises an eyebrow at him and Phil unbuckles his seat belt.

Carl’s house looks like it could belong to any NHL player, except maybe Geno, professionally decorated with an expensive entertainment center. Phil sort of follows along as Carl gently steers Phil towards his bedroom. 

Phil stands just inside the doorway of Carl’s bedroom for a long moment, watching as Carl strips down to his boxer briefs and undershirt. Carl glances at him through his hair before pushing it back behind his ear. “I’ve seen you naked before,” Carl says, words indifferent, but tone gentle. He gives Phil an approving look as Phil comes to stand at his side. “Besides,” Carl says, hands tugging at the bottom of Phil’s t-shirt,” nothing’s happening tonight. I’m dead tired and you’re drunk. You’re going to get into bed with me and we’re going to sleep until you’re sober and I’m not about to die.”

There are moments Phil’s life when he was absolutely sure something was going to work out, this is one of those moments. He smiles down at Carl, settles his hand at Carl’s waist and stands placidly as Carl strips him down to his underwear.

“Now,” Carl says, satisfied, and leans up to kiss Phil on the mouth. Phil opens up immediately, pulling Carl in closer against his body. Carl shivers a bit and they stand there and trade kisses until Carl mumbles, “There’s a bed right behind us.”

Phil nips Carl’s bottom lip. “Noo,” he says, teasing, and Carl pulls back to glare at him.

“Bed,” Carl says, “any side. I’m not picky.” Phil valiantly does not make a self-deprecating remark. He pulls back the heavy covers on Carl’s bed and climbs in. He watches with interest as Carl makes a quick trip to his dresser and comes back with a messy topknot. Phil raises his eyebrows and Carl says, “Long hair gets everywhere.”

The mattress dips briefly before Carl rolls in close, tucking himself into Phil’s negative spaces. “Goodnight,” Phil says, Carl’s hair tickling at his nose.

“Goodnight, Mr. Conn Smythe,” Carl says against Phil’s chest and Phil’s whole body goes hot.

“How am I supposed to sleep, now,” Phil groans.

Carl gives Phil a quick squeeze. “Go to sleep, so you can fuck me in the morning.”

“Not helping,” Phil mutters, but sleep comes easily enough with Carl warm against his chest.

**

Phil wakes up to Carl staring at his face, one hand stroking up and down Phil’s arm. “Hi,” Phil says and Carl says, “Hi,” back. His breath smells like mint. Phil frowns. “Did you get up and brush your teeth?”

Carl shrugs. “Maybe.”

Phil closes his eyes again. “Do you think that’s fair?”

“You already told the world your breath is bad, so does it really matter?” Carl returns and Phil pinches his hip. Carl laughs and hooks his leg over Phil’s hip, rolling them over. 

The topknot on Carl’s head is listing to the side and he’s lost his undershirt sometime between crawling into bed and going on secret teeth brushing missions. “What time is it?

“We have about 3 hours before media,” Carl says and leans down to kiss away Phil’s morning breath. Carl wasn’t, he wasn’t playing. Rocking in Phil’s lap as the kisses got deeper, hands stroking Phil’s beard, testing the strength of his biceps. “I want,” Carl says, before dragging Phil’s shirt over his head and biting at Phil’s collarbone. 

“Fuck.” Phil’s hips jerk upwards, dick grinding against Carl’s ass. Carl bites him again and grinds back. Then they spend a delirious few minutes humping each other like they’re back in Juniors and not grown ass men. “Shit,” Phil says, “tell me you got some condoms and lube while you were sneaking around brushing your teeth, eh?”

Strands of hair curl around Carl’s face, pieces sticking to his temple, the corner of his mouth. Carl’s topknot is all put gone; Phil pushes the misbehaving hair out of Carl’s face and waits for him to gather himself.

Carl reaches to the side and grabs a foil packet and a half empty bottle. He shoves them at Phil before wiggling out of boxer briefs and urging Phil out of his underwear. Phil doesn’t even have time for self-doubts before Carl is wrapping a broad hand around his dick and stroking.

The sound Phil makes isn’t attractive in the slightest, but Carl’s eyes light up. “You should fuck me,” he tells Phil. He lets go of Phil’s dick to arrange himself face down beside Phil on the bed.

It’s a lot. Phil is surrounded by attractive men day in and out, but Carl is something else. Phi takes amount to admire the way the broad planes of Carl’s back narrow into his waist. The pertness of Carl’s ass. Phil takes the opportunity to just cup a cheek. Carl makes a soft noise at him. 

The lube isn’t a brand Phil recognizes, but it feels nice to the touch. Phil plays a bit, rubbing Carl’s rim with slick fingers until Carl is hitching back against him, complaining with words Phil doesn’t understand. “Please,” Carl gasps, hips tilted upwards and yeah, Phil’s done with teasing them both.

Carl opens easily, enthusiastically, fucking back against Phil’s fingers and moaning into the bedsheets. Phil grips his dick in his free hand, gives it a reassuring squeeze. Carl whines while Phil slicks on the condom, goes soft and compliant as Phil works his dick in.

“Ah,” Carl says on a soft exhale and Phil bites his bottom lip. “You can,” Carl says, and Phil pulls out to the head and pushes back in. Carl’s fingers curl into the sheets.

Phil fucks him easy, deep strokes, until Carl is twisting beneath him, steady stream of encouraging noises falling from his mouth. Phil’s caught off guard when Carl grabs one of his wrists and yanks. He hardly has time to brace before he’s plastered along Carl’s back.

“Fuck me like this,” Carl says, “close.”

They’re both sweating, more noticeable now that they’re skin to skin, chest to back, thighs to thighs. Phil rolls his hips, barely pulling out. Carl sounds like he’s praying. He tenses suddenly all over before gasping brokenly and relaxing into the sheets. 

“So good,” Carl mumbles as Phil wraps his hands around Carl’s shoulders and fucks in deep until he comes.

The room is quiet except for their heavy breathing until Carl starts to squirm and Phil pulls out carefully. He ties off the condom and Carl lifts an arm languidly to point in the direction of the trash can. Phil’s legs feel like noodles as he disposes of the condom. Carl is still face down on the bed, breathing carefully. 

Less than a year ago, Phil was run out of town, traded for beans with potential and now he’s a Stanley Cup Champion fucking his handsome teammate. 

Carl flips over onto his back and beckons Phil back to the bed. “Stop thinking. We have just enough time to grab a nap and a shower before heading back to CONSOL.” Phil doesn’t bother to argue just crawls back into bed and lets Carl curl up around him. “Worth the wait, don’t you think?” Carl asks.

“Definitely,” Phil says and pulls Carl closer.


End file.
